


drugs & candy

by cloudassless



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, Friendship, Frottage, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Rating will probably go up, Sleepovers, The Losers - Freeform, boys and affection, don't think so, handjobs, is it a reddie fic if richie doesn't climb through eddie's window late at night, richie having a good healthy relationship with his parents like he does in the book, some language cos they're teenagers but hey being kids didn't stop them, stephen king don't read this, this dynamic is so fun to write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-01 22:47:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12714390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudassless/pseuds/cloudassless
Summary: "So, why are you traipsing around my neighbourhood at-" Eddie glances at his wristwatch, "-nearly 10pm?""'Traipsing'. Good word," Richie said. Then he shrugged. "Spontaneous sleepover? My mom made those tiny chicken drumsticks. The sticky sauce ones, which I know you hate, because they make a mess, but, hey, which I know you also love, because the sauce is that weird barbecue-chutney combination. The one my mom makes specifically because you complimented it that one time. Not that I mind, though. That sauce is the tits. Why are you looking at me like that?"-------in which Eddie doesn't actually need a reason to be invited over, Richie, just invite him. chrissakes.





	1. you had me on the edge of indiscretion

"Richie! Jesus, would it kill you t- have you heard of, I dunno, knocking? Front doors?" Eddie griped, lowering the baseball bat he had clutched in his hands. His white-knuckled grip loosened and he placed a hand dramatically over his heart (which was, to be fair, smacking away in his chest).

Richie unfroze and swung his other long leg over the windowsill. "And risk your mother seeing me? She'd think I'm here for her, Eddie, and I'd have to let her down gently but firmly. We can't break her heart that way."

"Shut up, Richie."

He tumbled gracelessly into Eddie's room and adjusted his glasses, which had slipped as he scaled the side of the house. His curly hair was tousled from the ride over and Eddie thought he looked a little sweaty. Gross. He tossed him the gym towel draped over his chair.

Grinning, Richie wiped his brow and took the bat from Eddie, who sat down cross-legged on his bed.

"What, Eds? You were gonna bash my skull in? How many nighttime suitors are you expecting that you need a weapon to fend 'em all off, huh?"

"I thought you were the fucking clown, smartass," Eddie hissed.

"Oh yeah? So you were gonna bash _IT's_ skull in? Poor planning, Eds. You'd've just made his fat head even bigger."

Eddie tried to scowl. Then his nose twitched in the tell-tale manner that always meant some giggling was not long to follow.

Richie set down the bat against the wall, then plopped down beside his best friend on the bed. He jabbed a finger into Eddie's side to help the laughter along. A surprised giggle escaped him so Richie began to tickle him in earnest.

"Go on, Eddie, I bet you haven't nearly filled your quota of chucks for the day," he teased, fingers poking at a writhing Eddie's ribs. Eddie rolled away, gasping through his laughter, and spluttered out, "Truce, asshole! Hey, Icalledtruce, _yousonofabi-_ "

Richie withdrew his hands, lightning quick, and held them up placatingly. "Aye, sir, no, sir. Hasn't I ever reneged on no unequivocal truce, cap'n."

"No pirate sounds like that."

" _This_ pirate does."

"Yeah, well, _this_ pirate is an unequivocal idiot."

Richie wheezed and knocked Eddie's shoulder good-naturedly with his own. "Eddie Kaspbrak Gets Off a Good One! Someone get a shot of this moment." 

Eddie smiled ruefully and returned the shoulder bump. He drew his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around them. "So, why are you traipsing around my neighbourhood at-" Eddie glances at his wristwatch, "-nearly 10pm?" 

"'Traipsing'. Good word," Richie said. Then he shrugged. "Spontaneous sleepover? My mom made those tiny chicken drumsticks. The sticky sauce ones, which I know you hate, because they make a mess, but, hey, which I know you also love, because the sauce is that weird barbecue-chutney combination. The one my mom makes _specifically_ because you complimented it that one time. Not that I mind, though. That sauce is the tits. Why are you looking at me like that?"

Eddie's eyebrows were making a bid for his hairline. "You came all the way to my house because you wanted to invite me to sleep over at yours? We have a landline, you know."

"Which your mother could have picked up. Keep up, Eds! I feel like my brain is hurtling through space and time and yours is jogging along like Mrs O'Malley in her neon tracksuit!"

Richie hopped off the bed and did a few lacklustre jogs on the spot to demonstrate. "You," he said pointedly. Then he stood still and twitched as if he meant to break left. "Me. You see that? I was so fast you didn't even see me running down to your mailbox and back."

Eddie snorted and chucked a pillow at Richie's head. "You want me to sneak out?"

"Kinda."

"And on a school night, too. My mother was right about you, Tozier," Eddie said, folding his arms and pretending to look disdainful. Then his forehead became lined and the playful edge left his voice. "Seriously, Rich. I don't think I can get away with it."

Richie grabbed his shoulders. "No, see, that's the beauty of it! You leave a note on your pillow saying you left real early in the morning for a group study session in the library. Sure, she'd worry, but she'd eat it up. Like, 'Oh, my Eddie bear, so _serious_ about his _grades_ and his _future_! My Edward is such an academic! Margaret, have I told you how _hard_ that school has my poor boy wor-' stop hitting me, Eddie spaghetti, you know I'm right!" Richie laughed and held up his hands in defense.

Eddie heaved a long-suffering sigh for show, but inwardly, he was pleased as punch. He thought Richie's plan would likely work.

"Okay, master schemer. Pack up my textbooks while I get my toothbrush." He started walking to his door.

Richie stopped him. "Where is it?"

Eddie gave him a strange look. "Uh, the bathroom?"

"The one you share with your mother?"

Eddie's expression turned withering. "Oh my God Richie, I swear to-"

"I only meant you might wake her up if you go into the hallway. Can't you just go a night without brushing your teeth?"

Eddie shook his head, disgusted. "Absolutely not."

"You can share mine, then," Richie shrugged.

"Oh, you're so fucking gross, Richie, do you know how many bacteria are in the average person's mouth?"

Richie grinned widely and quipped, "Good thing I'm no average person, then."

After more bickering, Richie convinced his friend that Maggie Tozier usually kept a pack of new, _unused_ toothbrushes in the bathroom cabinet and Eddie could definitely swipe one. 

With his school backpack stuffed fuller than usual with pyjamas and clothing for the next day, Eddie placed his handwritten lie neatly on his pillow, then lingered at his open window. He looked out, uncertain. "How do you do this without snapping your neck, Rich?"

"By God's good grace, m'boy. Watch the master."

Richie shimmied out the way he'd come in, first one leg over the sill, followed by the other. He sat still for a moment, peering down at the moonlit yard through his coke bottle lenses.

Looking over his shoulder, he told Eddie, "There's that, lattice fence thing, up against the wall? About a yard from your window. You just gotta reach for that, then climb down it, like a ladder."

With fluid movements not often characteristic of his gangly limbs, Richie monkeyed his way down. Eddie followed suit, much slower and more carefully, swearing under his breath. He let go for the last foot or so and hit the grass, crouching. His ankles tingled briefly in that unpleasant, I-just-jumped-off-a-swing way.

He forgot about it as soon as he caught sight of Richie's beaming face.

"Nicely done, Eds! Now you have no excuse not to sneak out and come visit me. You ready to scram? My bike's 'round front."

"Don't call me that, Richie," Eddie said, but his tone wasn't half as heated as his cheeks, and he said it with a sort of smile.

Nudging shrubbery aside, Richie hauled his bicycle out from under a hedge in the front yard. He clambered on, then looked expectantly at Eddie. "Well? Hop on, Lady Guinevere. Your steed awaits." He paused thoughtfully. "And your drumsticks."

Eddie pinched Richie's side but stepped onto the back wheel bars. He gripped Richie's shoulders tightly. "Don't get us killed, Trashmouth."

"Don't pinch the designated cyclist, then."

"Don't tell me what to do," Eddie said, snippy. 

"Don't tell me not to tell you what to do."

"Oh my God, shut _up_ , Trashmouth."

"Now you're telling _me_ what to do. This relationship isn't reciprocal, Eds," Richie lamented with exaggerated sorrow. He kicked off and his feet caught the spinning pedals. He pushed them forward onto the dimly lit street, wobbling slightly. For one instant, Eddie pictured them bailing and eating cement, before the bike's motion evened out. He imagined he could hear Bill calling his catchphrase.

"Hi-yo, Eddie! _Away!_ " Richie whisper-yelled as he picked up speed, startling Eddie by speaking his thoughts aloud. He tightened his grip around Richie's neck and shut his eyes against the cold, stinging air as they raced into the darkness. The flapping sounds of their clothing was accompanied by the rapid-fire smacking of playing cards against the spokes of the wheel. They sounded like gunshots, and perhaps what it might sound like to beat the devil.


	2. you caught me in a moment of redemption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey losers! rating will go up next chapter so hold onto your paper boats.

"-and _that's_ how I got Mrs. Henderson to change my B+ to an A- on my report card, Eddie my love: with my powers of seduction and persuasion," Richie said loftily as he shut the front door to the Tozier residence behind Eddie.

Eddie shook his head, disbelieving and amused, and allowed Richie to propel him gently down the hall toward the kitchen. "I'm sure, Rich."

"You should be. It was like I'd rolled a nat 20 on a persuasion check."

Eddie took a seat at the teak kitchen table, chuckling at his ridiculous friend. "See, now you just lost _all_ credibility with how nerdy that analogy was," he teased.

Richie splayed a hand across his chest and spluttered indignantly, "Wounded! Oh, how you _wound_ me, Kaspbrak." He swung open the fridge door and began rummaging about inside. Pulling out a Tupperware, Richie brandished it triumphantly and said, "Now, as long as I'm putting food on the table, I will _not_ tolerate any more insults under my roof. Capiche?"

"Your mom made those drumsticks, you wet blanket."

"And she made me, so de facto I made these drumsticks."

"That's so not how it works," Eddie scoffed.

Richie began reheating the wings and shrugged. "That's conjecture on your part, Eds."

"Not my name," Eddie sighed, slipping into his usual role in this practiced script with ease. He didn't even really mind the nickname anymore. If he was honest, he kinda liked it; when Richie assigned nicknames, it was because he meant for you to become a permanent fixture in his life.

The boys devoured their drumsticks happily and with a veracity only teenaged boys could possess. Eddie insisted on washing the Tupperware and plates they'd used, while Richie berated him for not acting like a guest. He poured them glasses of water ("Milk is for _children_ , Eddie!" "Yeah, children with strong _bones _.") while Eddie dried the dishes.__

____

They left the kitchen and made their way to the staircase, stepping lightly on the wooden floor so as not to wake Mrs. Tozier, who was most certainly asleep upstairs. Richie paused in the living room, where his father sat snoring softly in an armchair. Eddie bumped into Richie's back and slopped some of his water onto him and the floor.

____

"Now imagine that'd been sticky fuckin' milk," Richie murmured, as Eddie forlornly retraced his footsteps to the kitchen to fetch a damp cloth.

____

Richie approached Wentworth Tozier and shook his shoulder gently so that he stirred.

____

"Dad? Hi, I'm back. Eddie's here too. We're gonna go to bed soon."

____

His dad nodded and stretched his arms above his head. He checked his wristwatch. "Right. I suppose I'll make quick work of the old bedtime ritual myself. Did you boys eat?"

____

"You betcha ass we did. Tell mom before she leaves in the morning that it was great, like always, big surprise."

____

Went looked at his only son sternly over the rim of his reading glasses. "Language, O foul-mouthed idiot of my loins."

____

Richie just grinned sheepishly. Behind them, Eddie leaned against the door frame, watching this interaction, dishcloth tight in his grip.

____

Up in Richie's room, Eddie set down his glass on the bedside table and watched his friend lock the door. He didn't realise he was smiling at him until Richie turned around and gave him a questioning look.

____

"It's, uh. Nice," Eddie explained, voice soft and a touch awkward. "The way your parents trust you, I mean."

____

Richie blinked rapidly, surprised and a little embarrassed. "Oh. Yeah, I suppose it is. Beats having to sneak out - or, I guess, in - to your house, huh?"

____

"You have no idea," Eddie sighed.

____

Richie all at once felt a wave of sympathy for his over-protected, swaddled 'n' coddled friend.

____

"But that's why you have _me_ to do all your sneaking around for ya, Eddie spaghetti."

____

Eddie giggled for what must have been the hundredth time just that evening, and Richie beamed back at him, a knee-jerk reaction to Eddie's delight.

____

"You realise that's an absurd nickname, don't you?"

____

"Takes a turd to know the absurd, Eddie."

____

"Oh my God, shut up."

____

"I'll put your request in the suggestion box," Richie drawled.

____

The two of them changed into each of their versions of pyjamas - Eddie, an over-sized button-up cotton shirt with matching bottoms; Richie, a faded band shirt and boxers - and brushed their teeth in Richie's bathroom. They competed to see who could spit the biggest toothpaste glob in the sink, and agreed to disagree on who won.

____

Sometimes, Richie pumped up an inflatable mattress for Eddie to sleep on when he spent the night. On spontaneous nights like these, however, the two of them almost always deferred the mattress to share Richie's bed.

____

Richie hit the light switch, then took a few bounding leaps before launching himself onto the bed beside the small huddled shape that was Eddie burrowed beneath the faded red duvet. Richie squirmed under the covers and shoved his hands up Eddie's shirt, partly to warm his frozen fingers but primarily to illicit outraged shrieks from the smaller boy.

____

"Jesus, Richie! Do you stick your hands in the icebox for fun?" Eddie cried.

____

"Only when you're around to warm 'em up, Eddie spaghetti."

____

Eddie wriggled away from Richie's icy, prying fingers, giggling despite himself. Richie just took it as an invitation to drape himself over Eddie's curled form, force an arm between Eddie and the mattress, and interlock his fingers around Eddie's midriff. 

____

"Now _that's_ what I'm talking about, folks. It's like I'm spooning a pint-sized hot water-bottle," Richie sighed dreamily.

____

"You're literally being so rude right now- I, I don't even know why we're friends," Eddie said, defeated, as he sank back into Richie's embrace.

____

Richie rubbed the tip of his nose against the nape of Eddie's neck. Eddie shivered at the sensation. "It's because we maintain perfect thermal equilibrium between us, Eds. You're hot and I'm, well... hotter."

____

"Okay, firstly, that's stupid, and secondly, that isn't even how thermal equilibrium _works_ , asswipe. One of us needs to be cold."

____

Eddie felt rather than saw Richie grinning against his skin. "Well in that case, I'm cooler than cool, Eddie my love. I'm _ice_ cold."

____

"You're insufferable, is what you are."

____

"Ouch. Now _that's_ ice cold, Eddie," Richie said scoldingly.

____

They bickered (or as Richie called it, exchanged banter) a little while longer, before Eddie let out a shuddering, sleepy sigh. He sensed Richie tensing up behind him, and made a questioning noise.

____

Richie made a sound of dismissal and just pulled his friend closer. "Night, numbskull."

____

"Night, dork," Eddie yawned.

____

"Good _night_ , nerd," Richie said, affronted.

____

"That's rich, Rich," Eddie murmured, and snickered when Richie poked his ribs in response.

____

They fell silent and dropped off to sleep soon after, Richie with an arm and leg slung heavily but comfortingly over Eddie's form, and Eddie with his hand curled possessively around Richie's upper arm.

____

They slept like this quite soundly for a few hours. It was only at around 3.30am that Eddie stirred, suddenly wide awake for no discernible reason. He nudged Richie and urged him into consciousness. 

____

"Richie?"

____

"Yeah?" came the drowsy reply.

____

Eddie swallowed with difficulty before continuing. "Do you really, truly, with all your heart believe that Pennywise is actually dead? Like, for good?"

____

Richie propped himself up on an elbow and frowned down at his friend. Although blurry without his glasses, he could clearly make out Eddie's stricken expression.

____

He thought it over for a few terse seconds. Then he nodded.

____

Eddie didn't look placated. "But _how_ , Richie? How can you be sure?"

____

"I can't," Richie said, helplessly, "But I'll go crazy if I let myself doubt it."

____

A full-bodied shiver wracked Eddie's small frame, so Richie wrapped him in his arms again. Eddie exhaled forcefully into Richie's neck. Eddie bit at the inside of his cheek before speaking again. "I wish I was brave like... like you and Bill and Mike," he admitted quietly. "You all just trust that everything'll turn out just fine."

____

Richie snorted. "We're scared too, Eddie. Don't you think for one second we aren't."

____

Eddie stayed quiet, absorbed in his thoughts.

____

"And anyway," Richie added, voice thick and speech halting, "You're the brave one, Eds."

____

Eddie shook his head, but Richie grabbed his chin and stopped him. "No, really, you are, Eddie. You took on the leper alone. You faced off Bowers and his gang, and got a broken arm for your troubles. If they'd caught me, I'd've probably passed out on the spot," Richie murmured.

____

Eddie's cheeks began to heat up but he continued to look into Richie's unfocused eyes. "None of that happened because I had a choice, though," he argued.

____

"Does anything ever?" Richie said, half-teasing, but also serious. "And," he began, with an air of finality, "You were so brave to take on your mom in the hospital."

____

"How did you kn-"

____

"Oh, Eds, we _all_ knew. We knew your mom didn't want us visiting, but that you somehow told her off all the same. And that takes guts, Eddie, standing up to a parent."

____

Eddie felt a little winded at these revelations, and said nothing. Richie understood and just rubbed circles into Eddie's neck with his thumb, right above his collar bone.

____

Eventually, Eddie reached up to press the heels of his palms against his eyes. He took a few shuddering breaths, then buried his face into Richie's neck.

____

"I really- I, I just love you, Richie. I mean I love all of the Losers, but... I don't know how things could've gone back to normal without you. And they're not, well, _totally_ normal yet - I don't know if we ever _can_ go back to totally normal - but I'm glad we have you around to make it more so."

____

For maybe the sixth time ever in his life, Richie Tozier was at a loss for words. So, without something smart to say, he went with what felt right instead. He pulled back to place a soft, hesitant kiss on the corner of Eddie's mouth.

____

Eddie gazed up at him with wide grey eyes and said nothing, so Richie panicked slightly and instead of making an excuse, just leaned in quickly to kiss him again. Only this time, Eddie angled his face better and met Richie's mouth with his own. Their lips moved slowly against each other for a few brief but wonderful seconds. Then they broke apart so they could look at each other again - or, so that Richie could stare at him with something akin to awe while Eddie screwed up his eyes in embarrassment.

____

"Uh... sorry?" Eddie volunteered with a wince.

____

Richie laughed and shook his head. "Don't say sorry when we could just do that again."

____

Eddie felt that his face must be catching fire, but he nodded and leaned up to kiss Richie like he wanted to.

____


	3. the sweetness of you on my tongue/I breathed you in, you filled my lungs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning that this chapter is where the mature rating comes into play. read at your own discretion. also, an important note: in this work, both richie and eddie are 17, and were closer to 15 than 13 when they faced off IT. enjoy!

In the darkness of Richie's bedroom, the sounds of their breathing and kissing only seemed amplified, of which Eddie was _extremely_ conscious. Richie drew Eddie's lower lip into his mouth and sucked on it, and Eddie drew a sharp intake of breath.

"Is this okay?" whispered Richie when they finally broke apart. Eddie made a vaguely affirmative sound and yanked Richie back down to kiss him, and Richie hummed happily. He shifted sideways gradually until he lay fully draped across Eddie's body, his hips cradled between Eddie's trembling thighs and his arms cradling his face. 

_Okay, we're doing this. This is a thing that's happening. Cool,_ thought Eddie.

Richie's voice sounded thick when he spoke again. "Shit, Eds, kissing you is like a _dream_ , like the best feeling in the world," and before he could allow himself to blush at his sappy and nonsensical word vomit, he dove back in. His tongue slid along the seam of Eddie's lips, which opened in a staggered gasp, and he deepened the kiss.

Eddie's hands flailed against the sheets at the sensation of Richie's tongue sliding against his own. _This should be gross_ , he thought deliriously, _but it's not, it's not, it's_ not.

Because his hands felt empty and because it felt right, Eddie reached up to wrap his arms around Richie's broad back and grip at his shoulders. 

A thrill shot through Richie's stomach, leaving a smoky trail of heat in its wake. He acted on instinct when he grabbed at Eddie's left thigh and hoisted it up against his side, murmuring encouragements for Eddie to wrap his leg around his waist.

Eddie obliged and lifted his other leg to do the same. His ankles crossed against Richie's lower back, and he squeezed his thighs around his midsection. Richie let out a throaty groan, surprised but dizzyingly turned on.

"Shit, Eds," Richie whined again. He raked his nails down Eddie's sides, through his pyjama shirt, and reveled in the boy's answering shivers.

He began kissing down Eddie's neck, lingering at the hollow between his collar bones and feeling a rush of gratification when Eddie sunk his hands into his curly hair to scratch at his scalp.

"Can I... can I leave a mark here?" Richie asked cautiously, dragging his lips against the soft skin of his throat. At this, Eddie surprised them both by moaning, and Richie echoed the sound, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut. He couldn't believe how good Eddie sounded.

"Lower," Eddie whispered shyly, nudging Richie's head down to the sliver of shoulder revealed by his shirt. Eddie tugged the fabric down to expose more skin, and Richie was simultaneously endeared and aroused by the action.

All too pleased, he planted his lips against the warm skin below Eddie's neck, and left long, sucking kisses. He didn't really know _how_ exactly to leave a hickey, but he was nothing if not determined and brimming with enthusiasm.

Eddie squirmed under his attention and slapped a hand over his eyes. "O-oh my god," he stuttered. Richie bit down slightly and felt Eddie jolt underneath him.

He moved away to inspect the splotchy red mark on Eddie's skin and deemed his work satisfactory. He must have stared too long, because Eddie's hands settled against his jaw and he pulled him up impatiently to kiss him again.

Richie grinned against Eddie's lips and mentally thanked the turtle.

Unconsciously, Richie's tongue began to slide smoothly in and out of Eddie's mouth. He didn't realise he was tongue-fucking his best friend, but Eddie did, and his cheeks flushed at the suggestive glide. 

Richie's hips started to mimic the drag of his tongue, rocking forward slightly as he kissed Eddie deeply, and easing back when their lips parted. He didn't seem to be aware that he was doing this, either.

Eddie tensed at the feeling of Richie, hard against his hip, and he clutched at his shoulders. To his mild and pointless embarrassment, he was hard, too; he was hyperaware of the grind of his dick against Richie's hot abdomen, and slightly hysterical at how vivid and real and _good_ it felt.

Richie's mind seemed to catch up with his body, and his thrusts stuttered to a stop against Eddie's lower half.

They stared at each other, eyes wide and chests heaving, and Richie glowed a brilliant red. "Oh, fuck, I'm sorry Eddie, I-I'm, uh..." he trailed off uncertainly.

"Getting a little carried away, there?" Eddie suggested, but his tone was gentle and teasing as he reached up to stroke Richie's hair. He couldn't believe how calm he sounded when his heart seemed to be going eighty an hour.

Richie at least looked a smidgen bashful. He leaned in to plant a chaste kiss on Eddie's kiss-swollen lips, but the movement pushed their hips together, and Eddie whined into Richie's mouth. Richie thought he might combust on the spot.

Looking at him cautiously, Richie resumed his hips' slow, grinding movements. "Do you like this, Eds? Is this okay?"

Eddie's legs shook on either side of Richie. He nodded immediately and pushed his hips up as Richie pressed down. Richie's fingers spasmed against the mattress.

Resting their foreheads together, Richie slowed again, and urged, "Are you _sure_ , Eddie? You want this as much as I do?"

Eddie squirmed and mumbled something Richie didn't catch.

"Huh?"

"I said keep going... _please_ ," Eddie repeated softly, and in a slightly shaky voice, he added, "I want you so much, Rich, and I don't even know how or what to _do_. I just know I w-want you."

 _Holy shit_ , Richie thought.

"Good! Uh, _great_ , Eds. Oh, and I don't know either, but we can figure it out, yeah?" Richie encouraged, grinning at Eddie's lopsided smile.

He kissed each of Eddie's red cheeks, then sought out his lips once more. That smoky heat returned low in his stomach and remained there. Kissing Eddie reminded him of the feeling he got right after a roller-coaster ride: a tiny bit nauseated and a whole lot victorious.

They rocked together in Richie's three-quarter bed, Eddie's sighs catching in his throat and coming out as little breathy _ah-ah-ah_ 's timed to their thrusts. Richie concentrated on the sounds Eddie made and thought, disbelieving yet thrilled, _I'm doing that! I'm making him feel like that!_

If it felt like _this_ with clothing between them, Richie couldn't imagine surviving if they went any further. They'd have to plan his funeral and headstone, which should definitely read, 'Here lies Richie Tozier, 1972 - 1989: burned to smouldering embers under Eddie Kaspbrak's touch'.

If asked, though, Eddie would have said it was the other way around: _Richie_ was burning _him_. He was struck by how deliciously warm and solid Richie felt lying on him; how real. He was also struck by the impulse to get even closer.

Eddie's fingers danced at the elasticised waistband of Richie's boxers, and Richie froze mid-thrust. Their eyes met; Richie's bugging out of his head, Eddie's half-lidded.

"Is this okay, Rich? Do you want me t-to..." Eddie trailed off, shyly. He swallowed loudly. 

"Yeah, Eddie?"

"Um, can I touch you? Please?"

Richie pressed his lips together tightly, mouth disappearing into a thin line, and nodded so quickly they nearly butted heads. "Yes! Yes, you can! If you want," he rushed out, breathlessly. 

Eddie muffled his laughter and said, "I do want. I want to make you feel good," and Richie felt like imploding.

Eddie's right hand slid under the waistband and stroked lightly at the skin of Richie's tensed navel. He hesitated, counted to three in his head, then reached further and took Richie firmly in hand. 

A wave of wanting crashed over Eddie, at both the low cry that ripped from Richie's lips and the heat of his dick under his fingers. "Oh, wow," he breathed, tightening his grip experimentally.

Richie's whole body shuddered and he hid his face in the crook of Eddie's neck. "Oh-fucking-wow, _indeed_ ," he said shakily. He pushed forward into Eddie's hand, gentle but urgent.

Eddie trailed his fingers up and down his length, going by feel to gauge the size and shape of him. His thumb dragged devastatingly slowly across the head and Richie groaned, deep and guttural.

"Eds, _please_."

Eddie relented and began pumping his hand, his hold firm. He took in all of Richie's sounds, the moans and curses panted directly into his ear, and bit his lip, his cheeks warming. Richie sounded filthy. Eddie thought he could grow addicted to hearing him like this. 

"Shit, Eddie," Richie swore, his hips thrusting into the tight, hot grip. He mouthed at the skin of Eddie's throat, kissing him messily, desperately, and Eddie might have cringed at the cool air against the spit-slick patches if not for how much he loved his neck being kissed.

"So good, Eds, you're so fucking _good_ , baby," Richie mumbled, and Eddie moved his hand faster, swallowing his own moans at the pet name. It should have embarrassed him, but he loved hearing it like that from Richie's lips, all low and honey-sweet.

"'M gonn- gonna come," Richie panted out, and Eddie nodded. He brought his other hand up to rub at Richie's back, encouraging him.

Making a broken sound, Richie stilled and came into Eddie's hand, his body taut as a bow and nearly vibrating where he hovered over him. A few seconds later, he shifted slightly to the side and collapsed against the mattress, not wanting to crush Eddie.

They stared at each other, Richie taking large, gulping breaths, Eddie breathing rapidly but quietly. Then Richie cleared his throat and brought his hand down to where Eddie's still encircled his softening dick. "Uh, Eddie? Not to be rude but I think I'm gonna die if you don't let go this instant."

"Oh, right. Sorry," Eddie said, snorting and releasing him. He sat up and leaned down to kiss Richie softly, whose previously slowing heart sped up again.

Eddie slipped out of his bed and disappeared to Richie's bathroom to wash his hands. He climbed back in beside Richie a minute later and handed him a damp cloth, which he took gratefully. Richie cleaned himself up then tossed the cloth lazily in the direction of the bathroom doorway. Eddie rolled his eyes but pulled Richie in for another deep, searching kiss, and Richie wrapped him up in his arms.

As they made out leisurely, he reached down and pressed his palm against the front of Eddie's pyjama pants. Eddie gyrated his hips for a few moments, before slowing. He worried at his lip with his teeth, and Richie grew a little concerned.

"You okay, Eds?"

"Yeah, it's just... is it okay if we stop for now? I-I mean it's just that I feel a little, well, overwhelmed, I suppose? But in a good way," he assured Richie, stroking at his dark curls. "I want you to - I _really_ want you to - just not right now."

Richie buried his face into Eddie's own soft hair, relieved. "Of course. We can go at your pace, Eddie spaghetti. Just say when."

Eddie smiled, then asked a bit anxiously, "So you want... this? We can do this again?"

Richie laughed, disbelieving. "Uh, _hell_ yeah. Can this be a thing? I think this should be a thing. Maybe we should have discussed it before you gave me the most mind-numbing orgasm _of my life_ -"

"Oh, my God, don't just say it like th-"

"-but! I am still one thousand percent on board. So what say you, Edward?"

Eddie elbowed him but did so with a giggle. "Yeah, sure, I'm on board, too." He sobered up again. "So, we're...?"

He felt Richie go still, then ask tentatively, "Boyfriends? Um. If you want. _I_ want, if you were wondering. I like you a lot, in case you missed it."

Eddie felt all the tension bleed away from his body. "Yes, please," he said happily, and Richie laughed at the oddly polite way he said it, even as he celebrated inwardly, his stomach fluttering and his brain doing a happy jig.

He nudged Eddie to roll over, and scooted up closer to him, plastering his front against Eddie's back. Eddie snuggled back into him and said, "Okay, we're doing this. This is a thing that's happening. Cool."

"Way cool."

"The coolest."

"Coolio," Richie grinned against his shoulder.

Eddie chuckled and called him a dork, and they continued to speak in hushed tones until their eyes grew heavy and the conversation dwindled. They mumbled their good night's. Richie's room fell silent but for the sounds of their breathing and Richie's soft snores.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well! i'd really appreciate hearing feedback on this, as these were definitely some uncharted waters lmao. seeya next chapter!


	4. the sound of you, an outlasting vibration

"You know, this whole bus-riding shtick is getting older than Mrs K," Richie complained as he and Eddie squeezed past other disgruntled teenagers. They collapsed into the back row of the bus, where Bill and Stan were saving them seats; Bill half asleep, with the side of his face plastered to the window, and Stan flipping through a textbook.

Eddie struggled momentarily to get his backpack out from under him and onto his lap. "Wow, that was a weak one, Tozier. Hey, guys."

Stan gave a half-hearted wave while Bill grunted with just as much enthusiasm. Richie leaned over Eddie to punch Stan's shoulder, but very softly, almost a love tap. Stan just gave him a Look.

"What's up, losers," he crowed.

"My dick," said Stan dully, and Richie squawked in delight.

Bill peeled himself from the glass and leaned around Stan to ask, "Wuh-what's weak, Eddie?"

"Richie's hacked because we don't want to risk our lives and ride to school in his non-existent car."

Richie laughed and put an arm around Eddie's shoulders. "Geddin' off good 'uns addah crackuh dawn, Eds? 'M real prud, ayuh, _real_ prud o' ya."

Eddie laughed and leaned into Richie's side a little, hoping no one would pick up on it. "That honked, Richie. Don't ever audition with that voice."

"S-suh-heconed."

"Thirded," said Stan, but the corner of his mouth was upturned in his distinctive half-smile.

Richie scoffed at them, then continued to lament about not having a single car between the six of them. 

"I mean, seriously, without a means of transportation, _how_ exactly are we supposed to get up to teenaged hijinks full of storybook mischief and adventure that place us in challenging yet ultimately harmless and character-building situations?"

"This isn't _'The Secret Seven'_ , Richie," pointed out Stan.

"Of course it's not. None of the kids in those books said 'fuck'."

They continued talking as Ben boarded and squeezed past Richie to sit next to the other window. He usually spent his morning bus rides staring through the streaky glass and appearing contemplative, his headphones plugged into his Walkman.

This morning, though, he launched into their conversation seamlessly, like he'd been there for the entirety of it. The losers were funny that way; they always seemed tuned into one another's wavelengths. 

"We're not _completely_ stranded, Richie. Mike has his motorbike," he chimed in.

Eddie giggled, and when he was looked at questioningly, said, "Motor _Mike_."

Richie pinched his cheek. "Terrible pun; great delivery. Extra points for being so cute." 

"Oh shove off, Rich."

"Consider me shoved," Richie said easily. Addressing Ben, he continued, "That may be so, Haystack, but it still doesn't help the rest of us. What's he gonna do? Stick a sidecar on both sides and let one of us sit pretty on the handlebars?"

"Maybe, and if we're l-luh-lucky, he'll make you run be-h-hind the rest of us," joked Bill.

"S'good thing I'm so athletically inclined, then," Richie said smugly.

"As if," said Stan.

"You have smoker's lungs," Ben added, a touch apologetic.

"Yeah, and they give me the ability to smoke _all_ of you on the track in phys ed."

"As if," Bill echoed Stan.

Eddie sat quietly and listened to their good-natured jibes and mockery. As nice as it would be if they had cars, Eddie secretly enjoyed his friends' shared commute - be it may on what Sonia Kaspbrak called a germ-infested death trap but what everyone else knew to be a bus - and their snarky back-and-forth. It was part of his daily routine at this point, and after all, he liked regularity and routine.

Eddie breathed in deeply. He could smell Richie's shampoo on the both of them, as he'd borrowed from Richie's scant range of toiletries that morning. As ridiculous as it sounded, he loved how comforting that modicum of cleanliness felt. He wondered how his routine would change, now that he and Richie had... well, happened. Next to him, Richie continued to talk animatedly, one arm gesturing wildly and the other firm and unmoving from Eddie's shoulders. 

Their friends took Richie and Eddie's near-constant body contact in their stride, like always, neither batting an eye nor commenting on their proximity. Eddie smiled discreetly to himself.

 _Actually, I don't think much will change_ , he thought.

* * *

The five of them stood huddled around the side of the main school building, just out of sight of the front entrance, collars turned up against the cool bite of the wind. The first bell hadn't rung yet. They always waited there for Mike to show up while Richie smoked and spouted bullshit for Stan to refute.

"No you see, Veronica would've killed Heather even _without_ JD in the picture. No doubt about it."

"That's bullshit and you know it. JD was the one who came up with the drain cleaner idea, and without him Veronica never would've even _considered_ it, stop _laughing at me, Richard_ ," Stan fumed.

Richie flicked the ash from his cigarette and shook his head. "Now Stanny, I'm not sayin' he didn't, I'm just sayin' she would've gone and done it all the same, with or without him."

Stan raked a hand through his sandy curls, exasperated. "You're not listening! It was JD's idea."

"Yeah, but Veronica still had the murderous intent hidden in her, all along."

"You don't know that."

Richie shrugged. "Sure I do. You can tell by the whole dark, malevolent thing she does with her eyes."

"That's just the way Winona looks, you dork," said Stan accusingly. "You can't misattribute a character's psyche to their actor's physical looks."

"P-point of contention," Bill piped up from where he was sat, back against the faded brick wall. The others looked down at him, inquisitive.

"Andre the j-juh-giant in 'The P-Princess Bride'."

Stan rolled his eyes. Richie just punched the air victoriously.

They looked over to the entrance of the lot when they heard the familiar, rumbling sound that signalled their friend's arrival. The sleek Yamaha XS650 was Mike's baby, and he took great care in its upkeep, polishing the black fairing until it shined and conditioning the leather seats until his arms ached.

He found a spot, killed the ignition, and kicked out its stand. Then he strolled over to join them, removing his helmet and rolling his neck.

"Detention, Tozier," he joked. He pulled Ben in for a one-armed hug while fist bumping a smirking Richie. "If I catch you kids smoking out here _one more time-_ "

"You'll have our guts for garters, Mr Carlson?" asked Ben.

Mike puffed up his chest and stroked an imaginary moustache, affecting their vice principal's mannerisms. " _Precisely._ "

"Wouldn't that be a sight," Eddie said, starting to laugh, "Mr Carlson in his office trying on his garters," and the losers cracked up with him.

Although this was all of them, and six was all they'd be (until at least the summer), they still felt their seventh member's absence when gathered together like this. The wrongness of Beverly not being there wasn't glaring - more like a faded ache, one that was a little more tender when they were laughing, or scared, or, in rarer moments, quiet.

Ben missed her most of all, even Bill knew that, but none of them dwelled too much on it. They settled for looking forward to her summertime visits, and when they were lucky, her surprise weekend trips over the course of the school year. Since they were kids, they'd never worried that there'd be a summer when she wouldn't show up; she was Bev, of _course_ she'd be there, smile bright and hair fiery. Probably with a year's worth of birthday gifts in her suitcase, too.

They chatted a little longer, until Richie put out his cigarette and clapped his hands. 

"Rightio, chaps! I believe we best be moving our shapely rumps right along if we don't want to be dreadfully late for homeroom," he stated in his pompous Englishman voice. The bell rang before the last word left his tongue. Richie had an uncanny accuracy in guessing the time, despite never being on time for anything in his life.

"Is homeroom even a thing in England?" asked Eddie, struggling to wriggle his arms into his backpack straps. Richie came over to help him immediately. Eddie blushed, his cheeks almost imperceptibly pink, and let him.

"But of course, Edward Spaghedward! T'is most certainly a thing."

"T'is not," argued Stan as he grabbed Bill's hand to pull him up from his spot on the cement. The group headed for the entrance where other students were entering the building.

"T'is too, Stanford."

"T'is not, Dickford. At least, they don't _call_ it homeroom there."

Richie grinned wickedly and pushed open the doors to the school. "Why, that's because they call it 'bungalow-chamber' in Merry old England." 

He shrieked and dodged when Stan lunged at him, arm raised to swat at the empty space where Richie had been a moment before.

"Mr Uris, please save maiming Mr Tozier for your lunch hour," their math teacher, Miss Walker, admonished drolly from the doorway to the secretary's office. Richie walked past her while bowing deeply, mimicking exaggerated grandeur and gratitude. Stan gave her an embarrassed, tight-lipped smile in apology, then whipped his head around to glower at Richie, who just grinned cheekily and slung an arm around his shoulders.

"You're lucky we love you, Trashmouth," Stan huffed. He didn't shrug his arm off, though, Eddie noted with mild amusement. Richie looked genuinely thrilled at the admission and bumped Stan's hip with his own.

"I'm lucky I'm so goddamn loveable," he crowed.

Stan and Richie led the way to their lockers. Eddie and Bill followed them, with Ben and Mike not far behind. Eddie glanced to his left and caught Bill smiling at him weirdly. He looked at him quizzically and mouthed ' _What?_ '

Bill shook his head and carried on smiling fondly. "Nothing. Just watching you watch Richie."

Eddie startled and looked back at Ben and Mike, but they were too engrossed in an enthusiastic discussion on weekend plans to have heard Bill speak.

"Don't worry," Bill reassured him, voice low. "It was just an observation. "Sometimes you smile when you're looking at him and you're sure he isn't p-paying attention. It's sweet."

Eddie laughed breathlessly and shrugged. "Oh," was all he said, a bit lamely. Bill chuckled and dropped the subject.

They all parted ways to go to their lockers to fetch school books and stash away cigarettes. It was only later, after he took his seat near the middle of the classroom (with the other K surnames) and found himself craning his neck around to look at the Ts, that Eddie realised: Bill had only stuttered once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> way-ohh! howdy and hello.
> 
> i've had this chapter written for a while, and i gotta apologise for not updating sooner. my dad broke a leg and was in the hospital for a few days. he's doin great tho so don't worry. it's just been busy as h*ck is all.
> 
> apology no.2: this is a super filler chapter - désolé, scusi, and ¡perdón! but it is setting the scene for some fun stuff to come (like a party. do you like parties? we gonna party) so hang in there (picture of kitten hanging off a branch)
> 
> until next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> hey there readers it's me, ya unreliable fic writer
> 
> i have loved reddie since i first read stevie k's IT as a wee smol child myself. imagine my disappointment when it occurred to me to check for fanfic online and found it barren. i am so grateful for this movie bringing it into the limelight as it's about damn time. seeing all the great fanworks has rlly pushed me to begin writing for the fandom, and actually just in general. hope ya like! 
> 
> this will be multi-chaptered, but seeing as i'm riffing off myself, i can't promise i have a very good sense of where this is going. i'm hoping the story will find me along the way.


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